Rather Waste My Time With You
by Cannibal Glow
Summary: Frikey, possibly Frerard? ; " I throw open the door with a little more angry force than is really reasonable in this situation, but what I see makes every ache I had two seconds ago melt away. This, I think, is love. "
1. Chapter 1

**I missed writing about them as adults. xD I need to finish some of my other ones... ah well.  
Hey, so, I don't own any of these characters and no animals were harmed in the writing of this chapter.  
ALSO, the characters have theme songs. You best give them a listen.**

**Mikey - Smother Me by The Used, Frank - My Curse by Killswitch Engage, and Gerard is Milkshake by Goodnight Nurse. They work for the characters, trust me. xD**

I fail to understand how kisses from someone so demure and adorable in mannerisms can be so aggro and gut-wrenchingly good. I should be accustomed to the way Mikey kisses by now, but he's not like anyone I've ever been with. By looking at the once-bespectacled, thin, wiry boy, you would think the way he shows love coresponds with the way he looks. That is absolutely not the case with him. I understand that, after a few months of semi-regular sex, it would be like stepping into a hottub. You know, the burn goes away. Once again, not the case. I can't get used to this. I simply cannot. I adore the way I can feel some of his bones through his Anthrax shirt he loves so much, and I love how he says my name so shyly. That doesn't contrast much. Well, not... not at _first_. At first, the way he whispers "Frank," between those delicious kisses I love so much makes me want to go less hard on him because even though he's older, he seems so immature. That's the stage we're in right now. I'm glad Mikey is so predictable; it helps me feel in control. I love being in control.

His tongue slides methodically in and out of my mouth. He's beginning to lean into me, as we're sitting on his couch and it's probably more comfortable this way. I can vaguely hear the movie we were watching before all this happened, past all the sounds that come with tonguing. Sherrif John Wydell is saying, "Oh man! I could hear that bone shatter all the way from here!" And while The Devil's Rejects is interesting, I'm more fixated on where Mikey's ever-wandering hands are headed. One of the better sensations in the world is Mikey Way's large hands roaming around your body. At present, one is cupping my neck, and the other is gripping my thigh. I've got a decent handle on his ribs, massaging them a little bit, trying to move this along. While he is a fantastic kisser, he's far better once the clothes come off. I'm not shallow; he does have the single greatest personality I've seen so far, but when caught up in the moment, actions speak louder than words.

It's too early yet to tell if I love him, isn't it? I do feel something really, really strong, but I'm not sure if it's love, per se. I adore everything he does and is, but I think I need a little bit longer to love him. He's said he loves me on more than one occasion, and I said I liked him more than was humanly possible. He said he'd wait as long as I needed for me to say it back. I've evaluated my feelings on the subject several times, but I still don't think it's love. Soon, though. I know it'll happen soon.

I can't think too much more about love, though, because lust overpowers it in this moment. Mikey's undoing my belt, which shows that my rib-massage worked. I raise my hips up off the couch to ease him in his endeavour to get my jeans off. A little to my embarrassment, I'd taken precautions before I came over. And by 'taken precautions', I mean I didn't wear anything underneath my skinny jeans because I knew I wouldn't need them. Call me crazy, but I'm absolutely not one for redundancy. Why wear boxers if they're going to be taken off anyhow? I might have shown up naked if it were legal. Mikey would have liked it. I remain confident he likes me better sans clothing, although he swears he likes me no matter what. Whatever, Mikey. Whatever.

"You're prepared, huh?"

"Like a fuckin' boy scout."

He laughs slightly and begins to work my shirt off, but not before taking my hands and putting them on his fly. I'm jolted into reality where people help get other people's pants off. By now, I'm a seasoned professional in dealing with Mikey's jeans as much as I am with dealing with what's underneath them. He gets my v-neck off before I manage to get his skinny jeans down. He echoes my hip-raising technique and I'm able to get his pants off, coupled with his boxers, which I note are the ones I gave him for Christmas. I wanted them, myself, because Mikey and I have an equal fondness of Snoopy attire, but they look better on him than they would have on me. I don't stop there, though. I need to take his socks off. Wearing socks during sex absolutely puts me off the whole thing. I'm picky that way, I suppose, but it's just disgusting. Since it's spring-y outisde, I came in flip flops. No worries there about any cumbersome cotton.

Mikey strips his own shirt off with extraordinary speed that I have to marvel for a second. "Shit," I mutter.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, Mikey."

"Whatever," he says playfully, pushing me backwards and to the side, so that my head is comfortably on a small pillow. This part, the skin-to-skin, is amazing, too. I love being able to feel every single part of him, and this is when my hands want to roam. I feel his goosebumps as I slide my fingers down his spine, laughing slightly into his mouth when he groans a little into mine. It's times like these I think I'm close to being in love with him. I take in his subtle nuances, like his sharp teeth, how ticklish he is on the undersides of his arms, the little tattoo he has just below his collarbone. He told me it was from his rebellious teenager phase, but he could have gotten a more hardcore one than the Japanese sign for 'peace'.

Mikey pulls his head up and, to my dismay, away from mine. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he smirks with mischief. I'm about to ask him what's up, but the only sound I can bring myself to force past my lips is a gasp at the sudden surge of pleasure I recieve. It takes a second to think about what causes it, but with an extreme amount of concentration, I can indeed feel a hand around me, and I feel the hand move up and down, making me squirm with every downward pump. I moan quietly in time with Mikey's strokes, not ever wanting him to stop. Although this is an unspoken sign that I'm submitting to him. He's warming me up so I won't be any more uncomfortable than I have to. He's really sweet that way.

He continues pumping his hand until I start making whining noises. That's how he knows I'm about to finish, so to speak. He stops, looks at me once empathetically, kisses me lightly and lifts my legs up to rest them on his shoulders. He knows I like it that way, and he always , so it's a good compromise. Somehow, he has a condom in his hand, which he gets from the wrapper and puts on. He is truly magical. "You're ready?" he half-asks, half-assumes.

I nod and grit my teeth at the always unpleasant entering of someone else into my body. Mikey takes it slow, which I'm not sure if I appreciate more than just getting it the fuck over with. It's either a little pain for a longer time, or sharp pain for an instant. I do appreciate that he's being considerate, though. He, again, slowly, moves his hips outwards and bucks them back into me a little faster. After around three or four of these, he finds a decent rhythm and I relax into it, whispering my expressions of content. They mainly involve "_Ah_", "_Ooh_", and "_Mikey_". With his increasing tempo, Mikey is getting louder and his less-than-formal vocabulary shines through. I think Mikey swearing is so out of place, and sometimes it wierds me out, but in situation, it's welcome.

From here on in I close my eyes until I need to open them. I prefer to have them shut while I'm doing this, because, to me, it feels better when you can't see it. You're just lost in this moment, this sensation... God, it's perfect.

Although my moment ends when Mikey starts saying my name desperately. I know as well as he does that this means he's about to come and he wants eye contact. I can understand how it would help _me_, because his eyes are simply the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my entire life, but mine? Not so much. He tells me they're gorgeous, but I never believe him.

I open my eyes to see Mikey's face, straining against the inevitable. I meet his gaze, he smiles briefly, but that smile turns into an open mouth. He makes a choking sound in his throat, stutters out a curse word, and that's what does it for me. I explode onto his stomach and the surrounding areas, and for this moment, these vital seconds, I'm in love with Michael James Way. It's shallow to say that, but I am. And while I'm in the midst of all this, he pulls out and away from me very slowly. "Wow," he murmurs, like he always does.

"Yeah," I reply, in a pinched tone of voice, having just finished coming.

"We should get dressed, though," Mikey said hurriedly.

"What's the rush?" I inquire dreamily. I can't help but be dismayed. I'm too tired to put clothing on.

"My brother," he replies, amidst the rustle of clothing, "is coming in like, ten minutes. His roommate got caught up in some heavy shit, so he'll be living here for a bit. I'm really just telling you what he told me the other day."

"A heads-up would have been nice. I practically live here, too. Tell me about him." A pile of clothes lands on my chest. I sit up, a little sore, and begin putting my shirt on.

"Uh, he's three years older than me, he's kind of a screw-the-world type, umm... I don't know what else there is. You'll find out when he comes."

"I suppose so," I say, and stand up to zip my fly. I head to the bathroom and try to fix my hair. It's too short to have real 'sex-hair', which I'm thankful for. Nothing gives a worse impression to someone you've just met than your appearance telling them you just got fucked. Not to mention it's embarrassing. Plus, Mikey's brother is, well, his _brother_. It's like meeting the parents, because a sibling's opinion of a significant other matters way more than the parents'. I believe it's time to turn on the charm...

The doorbell rings a little bit later, and Mikey's somewhere else in his house. "MIKEY! DOOR!" I holler.

"Can you get it?"

I sigh to myself, not eager to get up off the couch. I'm watching... well... something. I haven't been paying attention to whatever daytime television show I've been staring at. I grunt as I get up, hoping to show Mikey the sheer amount of effort I've expended in pushing my body, which is still sort of sore thank-you very much, up and dragging it to the door. I make a show of stomping to the doorway, all the while mumbling to myself about how angry I am to have gotten up. I throw open the door with a little more angry force than is really reasonable in this situation, but what I see makes every ache I had two seconds ago melt away.

This, I think, is love.

"Oh!" says the perfect form at the door. I'm under some sort of spell cast by him, the very personification of brilliance. His hair is as dark as mine, but his skin is as pale as a dead man's. His nose turns slightly upwards, but that doesn't even qualify as an imperfection. It adds to him. He's wearing black aviator glasses, so I don't get a good look at his eyes, but, goddamnit, he's rocking those shades well. "You're not Mikey!"

"No," I say, my voice wavering at the sudden smile I get from the man I'm sure is Mikey's brother. "I'm his... I'm Frank."

"It's nice to meet you. My name's Gerard. But, uh, if you don't mind my asking, Frank, why are you in my brother's house?"

I shake my head, trying to break this trance I seem to be in. I have to find words now, to justify my carelessness. I open my mouth to speak, but another voice answers for me. "He's my boyfriend. Good to see you, Gee."

"You, too, Mikey! Mind if I come in?"

I am a dolt. I'm blocking the doorway. I take a step to the side and let Gerard come in, noting that he makes the air smell phenominal. I shake my head again, and I come into eye-contact with Mikey. I realize that I'm an idiot for far more reasons than blocking Gerard's path. I'm dating his Mikey. I... I really like Mikey. But this... this is different. I've thought people were cute at first sight and all, but never beautiful like this. It's immediate; I want Gerard. I wish it wasn't so complicated, like if I was with anyone but Mikey. Then again, I don't wish I was with anyone else. Except Gerard. And now you see how complicated this is.

"So, what exactly did your roommate do to get himself arrested?" Mikey asks, leading Gerard to the spare room while I follow blindly.

"Drug trafficking, mostly. Except when he went to court they uncovered all this other shit, like theft and all that. So it was better I just got out of there, you know? And like, I didn't even know what he was doing. Definitely wierd being up on the podium with the rapid-fire coming at you."

"I'll bet," Mikey sympathizes. "That's shitty."

"Agreed. But it means I get to spend more time with my little brother!" Gerard mocks, grabbing Mikey by the neck and giving him a noogie.

"Dude!" Mikey hollers.

"Oh, yes. This'll do quite nicely," says Gerard, not letting go of Mikey.

"You're so immature!" Mikey whines.

I clear my throat and laugh a little uncomfortably. "I should- I should really be going."

"So soon?" asks Mikey, his voice strained and muffled.

"Yeah... you know, let you guys get settled in and stuff."

Gerard whips around, and lets Mikey go. He flips his hair away from his face, takes off his sunglasses, unleashing the same eyes as Mikey. The same gorgeous color, the smiling quality. I don't want to flatter myself, but I believe he smiles at _me_, and not out of pleasantry, and says, "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I'm here a lot, so you probably will," I state plainly.

"Good. Then I'll be talking to you later, Frank."

I nod weakly, mutter a goodbye to Mikey, and head out the door. As soon as I'm outside and out of eyeshot, my knees buckle under the weight of a love I'm positive I can never have.


	2. Chapter 2

**this is so lovey-dovey you'll prolly puke. enjoy! ^-^ **

I'm pacing around my living room, hands on either side of my head. Up until this point, my relationship with Mikey had been effortless, a reflex, like blinking or breathing, but now one person had to come along and fuck with my feelings. Just thinking of him now, I can't even cast him in a negative light. He's so sweet and, of course, handsome. Then, so is Mikey. And... and I'm supposed to love Mikey. I'm sure I will really soon now... but Gerard, I already sort of _do_ love. Before, like, a half hour ago, I thought there was nobody else but Mikey. He was- well, I suppose he still _is_ my one and only. And I also suppose that if it were anyone else, and not my boyfriend's brother, I wouldn't be so torn. If it were a random stanger on the street, I could much more easily not give them a second thought. What makes it worse is that Gerard's going to be living with Mikey, and I practically live there, too. So it's going to be the two objects of my desire, in a house, with me in the middle of it all. For a dream sequence in a teen sex comedy, it's ideal. In practice? Not so much.

I throw myself down on my crappy, unmatching secondhand sofa and let out a good yell. It's a dangerous move in an apartment, because I don't know who's at home or who will jump to the conclusions that I'm being murdered. If there's one thing I don't reccomend, it's having your internal organs ripped apart by love at first sight. It's romanticized, really. All it does is make you feel like a bumbling idiot, and it also makes you forget everything around you, except the person you're affixed to. It's like... it's like the earth shifts, even though you know it hasn't. I'm sure it's lovely when you're single. I'm sure, if it's really meant to be, there could be no better feeling. At present, however, it's rattling my brain and making me feel rather nauseous.

There's a knock on my door, but I really don't want to answer it. I haven't had such good luck with opening doors today. I stand up a bit too quickly and I get a headrush. Or maybe it's from thinking so goddamn hard.

I pad softly to the door and open it a crack. It's one of the two people I need to see the most but want to see the least. "Hey, Mikey," I greet, my voice not giving way to my current emotional turmoil.

"Hey, Frank. Mind if I come in?"

"Since when have I minded?" I ask playfully, opening the door widely and allowing Mikey in. I note that he's changed since we've last seen eachother. "What's up? Why aren't you with Gerard?"

"He's asleep. Big day, and all... Um, can I ask you something?" inquires Mikey, scuffing his foot on my carpet. It makes me smile in spite of myself. I do love his bashfulness.

"Ask away, babe," I say casually. I walk over to my coffee table and pick up my pack of smokes. I turn around and hold the pack out to Mikey, but he shakes his head. I shrug and take one for myself, light it up, and go back to Mikey.

"Well, I was gonna ask... are you alright? You left my place pretty quick, with no kiss goodbye or anything. I was worried," he admits, flushing a shade of very subtle pink. This makes me grin with all my teeth. Fuck, he makes me happy.

"Aw, Mikey! I'm just fine. I didn't want to intrude, is all. And, ah, you can collect that kiss, if you want."

Mikey smiles, and wraps his arms around my neck. I press my lips gingerly to his, and he responds meagrely. It's how we usually greet eachother, or say goodbye. I don't know what occasion this is, but it's a pretty little kiss, regardless. "I should head back out, though," Mikey says. Ah, so it's a goodbye kiss. "'Cause I was about to get some groceries. Unless you want to come with?"

I think alone-time with Mikey is precisely what I need for a clear head. Looking at him, my priorities are clear. I want to live to make him happy. A life where I wouldn't would scarcely be a life at all. "Sounds good," I reply brightly.

I see Mikey light up. He's so adorable when he gets his way. "Shall we go, then?"

"Let's," I say, slipping on my flip-flops and following Mikey out the door.

Before we venture down the stairs, I drape my arm around his waist. I know he likes it; Mikey's one of those people who likes to be held, and I'm one of those people who likes to hold. We do indeed compliment eachother nicely. I even fall into his stride, despite him being taller than me, and having longer legs. I make him stand outside with me while I finish my cigarette, and because it's nice out, he agrees. I love how he looks like an Abercrombie model, because of his light blue t-shirt and green plaid bermuda shorts. Somehow, he makes it match. And he's copied my flip flops idea.

We go back to his car, and make the extremely short drive to the store. We walk hand in hand up and down the isles, picking out food. I make him get vegan-friendly options, and he complains about it. I roll my eyes at him, because I know he likes it as much as I do. I thank him sweetly once he pays for the groceries that are, really, half-mine. I think how this is such a married-couple activity, and I smile. I picture us, slightly older, with rings on, in this very position. And I must say, my heart jumps in anticipation. That bit of relief feels exponentially better than almost anything else I've felt today.

In fact, that's another thing I love about Mikey. Being with just him makes me basically forget about most anything else. When I'm with him, it's an endless, perfect moment, as opposed to a series of events. I mean, that coupled with everything he does and is... I love it all. He's a genuinely perfect human being. I suppose you could say that I love _him_ in general.

I grab a couple grocery bags, as does he. I make it as far as the sidewalk outside the door before I drop everything. Back up, back up, back up. I had this errant thought a few seconds ago that I love him. And no akwardness or hesitance surrounded it. It was as normal as... _as blinking or breathing_, I realize with an ear-to-ear grin. This is it. The climatic epiphany that I love him! And, by God, it feels so goddamn good.

"Frankie?" Mikey asks worriedly. "What happened?"

I feel as if I'm floating when I take those crucial five steps towards Mikey. I look up at his perplexed expression with a new kind of clarity. "Mikey," I say urgently, putting my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at me. "I love you."

Mikey makes an uncomfortable noise that sounds like a laugh mixed in with an, "Uhhh..."

"Don't you love me, too?" I ask enthusiastically.

"Of _course_ I do! I'm just trying to process why you realized it here and now."

"I know, it's wierd. But it's a good thing, right?"

"It's a very, very good thing," Mikey concurrs, bending down and kissing me gently. "But you really should pick those bags up if you want me to have food this week."

I scarcely remember dropping anything at all, but sure enough, bags surround my feet. "Ah," I stammer out, "sure, sure. 'Course."

I scoop up what I'd dropped and follow Mikey back to his car, thankful he remembers where he parked. I'm horrid with that, I really am. He pops the trunk and I unload my half of the groceries into it. Then I slide into the passenger seat, actually excited for Mikey to sit beside me, so I can marvel at him. It's strange, this being in acquired love thing. It makes you look at your loved one with new perspective. Whereas the first sight type of love is a complete shock, like a blind man seeing the blue of the sky, or a deaf man hearing the simple sound of the wind, love that's built up to is more like a newborn being placed into its mother's arms. Of course, it knew its mother, and it was close to its mother, but never got to know how she looked or felt until the one defining moment. That's how I feel now.

Mikey finally gets in the car and starts it up. "Hey, Mikey? Guess what," I chirp.

"What?" he replies, a little condescendingly, as if he already knows 'what'.

"I love you."

He laughs a little bit and says, "I love you, too."

"You don't seem as happy about it as me."

"No, I am... I'm just distracted today. And after all, I've already felt that way before. When I realized I loved you, it wasn't like a blind man seeing the sky, it was more like a newborn-"

"Getting held by its mom the first time?" I interrupt, in awe.

Mikey looks over and smiles with all his teeth. "Yeah," he agrees, his voice lifting up. "Exactly like that."

We drive back to his house in silence, me staring at him in unabashed wonder, and him probably basking in my adoration. People aren't loved enough these days, in my opinion. So when you find someone who loves you, it's a damned fantastic feeling.

He and I grab the bags of food from the car, and carry them to the house. I'm too loaded down to open the door, so Mikey slides the bags back on his right arm and pushes the door open. "See," I say, stepping inside, "this is why I-"

I'm interrupted by Gerard. Although he doesn't say anything, it's how he looks. He's in the same pair of jeans I'd seen him in earlier, although he's got bedhead, a toothbrush in his mouth, and he's sans a shirt. I don't understand why I'm fazed. His body isn't remarkable at all. I mean, sure, there's some definition on his arms and shoulders and such, but he doesn't have any eye-catching muscles or anything. Maybe it's just because it's a part of him, just more amazing-ness for my eyes to explore. "... love you," I whisper, now to the person brushing his teeth in front of me.

Sweet, oblivious Mikey laughs, greets Gerard, and heads to the kitchen, presumably to put away this week's rations. I'd love to follow him, I really would, but I can't bring myself to move.

"Oh, hey, Frank. I didn't know Mikey was bringing you back here. I should get dressed, huh?"

I giggle nervously and nod my head, finding it exponentially easier to move and follow Mikey once Gerard's left the room. I aide him in putting away groceries, somewhat able to keep my mind on the Way brother I'm involved with. It's a little more of an effort than I'd like, but eventually he gets me into a conversation and I find it easy to focus. "So," he starts, "what shall we make for supper?"

"What do we want?" I ask.

"Well, I'm in the mood for anything, what about you?"

"Ditto," I agree.

"You know I'm basically a professional chef, right?" Mikey challenges. "Lay it on me."

"You know that the last time you said 'lay it on me', you ended up swallowing something very different than well-prepared tofu?" I retort with a wink.

Mikey flushes his trademark light pink, and his face goes sinister and mischeivous. "I'm a little foggy on that one. Care to give me some..." he trails off, stepping towards me, and placing a hand on the front of my jeans, "details, love?"

I'm doing an inward happy-dance. I adore it when Mikey initiates dirty-talk. "Well," I begin, purring into his ear and stepping into his touch, "you said to lay it on you, correct?"

"Mm," he murmurs, rubbing his hand in slow circles. "Then what?"

"Then I kissed you," I pause, pressing my lips to his neck and not removing them, "here. You pulled me up by the neck of my shirt and kissed me," I pause again, gingerly kissing him on the lower lip, "there. Remember that?"

"It's coming back to me," he replies, squeezing his hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," I chide. "If you keep doing that, I won't be able to finish my story properly."

The rubbing stops, and I chuckle quietly to myself. Before going on, I put my hand to Mikey's crotch, which is already fighting against his shorts. "You went down on me, and it felt a little like this..." I say, rubbing my hand up and down against him. "Recall?"

"Oh, yeah," Mikey whimpers.

"And then, since you were so apt to _fuck me_," I growl, squeezing. "you pushed me onto my stomach, and you teased me a little bit, like so..." I purr, rubbing my other hand up and down his ass.

"I remember that part, yeah. And what else did I do?" Mikey moans.

"I'd show you, but we'd need a tad more privacy," I say impatiently, kissing Mikey's neck again for the sake of it.

"That can be arranged," he says, pushing me away. "After dinner."

I make a disappointed huff through my nose and stick my lower lip out in a pout. Mikey copies me, and he looks so goddamned cute that I'm reminded how much I love him, even if he does make me wait for sex.


	3. Chapter 3

**_finally_, hurrmm? =D**

"Vegan, huh?" Gerard inquires when Mikey mentions my eating choices at the dinner table. I'm glad that I'm getting used to Gerard's presence. I mean, I still... I don't know what it is that I feel for him, but I still _do_. I'm pretty able to control it now, though, and I can have a decent conversation with the guy.

"Yep, vegan."

Alright, maybe less than decent. But I'm trying!

"That's cool; why, though?"

"I have an animal affinity," I admit. "I can't stand eating or using anything that comes from them. To me, it's like cannibalism or murder."

Gerard looks at me wide-eyed. "I never thought about it that way..."

"Yeah, a lot of people don't- oh! No, no, I don't mean to put you off it or anything. It's just my thing."

Gerard laughs. "It's a little late for that one, I think."

"Do we have a convert?" I ask enthusiastically.

Gerard looks pensive for a moment, and Mikey finally offers some input. "If he hasn't converted _me _after how many months, I don't think he'll get you to go vegan just like that."

Gerard smirks apoligetically. "Mikey has a point," he says. "Sorry, Frank. I'm gonna have to go on being a cannibalistic murderer."

"By all means," I joke. I see Gerard take a drink of water, and I see an oppertunity. "The pigs aren't gonna care."

The eldest Way brother bursts out in belly laughs at my pun, clasping a hand to his face, undoubtedly to catch water coming from his mouth, and possibly his nose. I giggle along, and Mikey does his thing where he looks incredibly adorable while laughing. He shuts his eyes and scrunches his nose, throwing his head back and chuckling in his cute way. That makes me laugh even more, and Gerard is the first to speak amidst the peals of laughter. "It wasn't even," he takes a breath, "that funny!"

"I know!" Mikey hollers.

"I can't stop," I gasp for air, "laughing!"

"Try! It's your laughing that's making _me_ laugh!" Gerard says to me desperately amidst howls.

"_Mikey's_ making _me_ laugh!"

Mikey, as I see, is desperately trying to stop laughing, but in his effort (covering his face in his hands and silencing his giggles), he looks sort of silly, and more than sort of cute. That calms me down, effectively calming down Gerard, who flashes me a positively heart-melting grin. I stop making sound abruptly, and focus on my plate, skewering a macaroni noodle with my fork. I try and stare at it like it's the most interesting thing on planet earth, because the other , currently, most interesting thing on planet earth is staring at _me_.

I finish up my dinner around the same time as the other two and Mikey offers to do the dishes. I really don't want to be alone with Gerard, because even now, getting used to him, I'm not sure if I can handle it. Gerard and I simultaneously say, "No, I can do it."

Mikey looks at us strangely, gets up, and collects our plates. "S'my house," he says plainly. "I should clean it up. Plus, you two should get to know one another more."

I can't argue with that perfect setup, and, apparently, neither can Gerard. He and I thank Mikey for dinner and head into the living room, plopping next to one another on the couch. He puts his arm on the back of the sofa, and I inch in slightly closer, looking at his thighs. They seem muscular. What wouldn't I give to be pressed up against them? Even more, to have my own thighs knocking against them as he wriggles underneath me, begging for more? "Twenty-five," Gerard says suddenly, "Aries, freelance artist who hasn't gotten much work lately. I sing, my hair is naturally this color, I'm a dog person. We friends now?"

"Twenty-one,"I reply, catching on and appreciating his wit, "Scorpio, between bands right now. I play guitar, I don't know my natural hair color anymore, and I'm a dog person as well. Yes, we are."

"Good. I think you'd be a great friend, but I have to admit, Frank, you scare the hell outta me."

I'm vaguely insulted. I don't like being classified as 'scary', especially by those I'm trying to get in good with. "W- why?" I ask.

"It's nothing bad, it's just that- ahh, nah. You don't want to hear my ramblings that'll probably just confuse you," Gerard says sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. I wish it were my hand, and that my lips were pressed onto his. This thought almost distracts me from what I'm going to say, but then I recall.

"You've told me enough to make me curious. I'm not gonna stop asking until you say the rest, so you may as well," I entreat.

"It's stupid," Gerard says. "Really."

"Tell me."

"I don't wanna be a homewrecker!"

"Hmm?"

"Shit. Nothing."

"Gerard," I scold. "Just get it out."

"You don't wanna hear it."

"You're wrong."

"Alright! Jesus. You're confident, you're... you're not bad to look at, and you have a really great laugh, and... and... I like you, okay?" he hisses. "And I can't stop it. I've never ever wanted a boyfriend of Mikey's, but I saw you, and..."

"Love at first sight," I state.

"Yeah," Gerard breathes. "How'd you know?"

"I feel the exact same way about _you,_" I admit, slightly hesitantly. As good as it was to hear it, and know I wouldn't be rejected, confessing things in practice is always such a bitch.

Gerard looks at me for a minute or so, barely blinking. I'm swimming in his eyes, trying to read what he may be thinking. I'm sure he's thinking of doing something with this newfound information. After all, who wouldn't? When I learned about Mikey's mutual feelings for me, I'll bet I had the exact same look in my eyes. The slightly hungry, slightly awed expression. He licks his lips in a fidgety sort of way, and stands up. "Come see my room," he says.

"I've already-"

"Just do it."

I hoist myself off the couch and follow Gerard to his room, which is the spare room of Mikey's house. I've used it a few times by myself, when Mikey and I got into arguments in the middle of the night a couple times, and he and I have used it lots together. But now it looks strangely different. Gerard's clothes litter the floor and he has bottles of God-knows-what on the dresser. It's very Gerard, I reason. I really do like that futon, too. I'll bet it smells like him now...

"It's cool," I appraise casually.

"Show me you love me."

"Eh?" I ask, and cock my head to the side. Did I hear him right? Even if I had, what do I do? Show him I love him. How?!

"Fuck sakes," he murmurs at my lack of response, stepping forward and forcefully kissing me, taking hold of one side of my face and the back of my head. I stupidly go limp for a moment before I process the moment. I place a hand gingerly on his neck, and one on his chest. I purse my lips and respond to Gerard's hungry kisses, with my own enthusiastic ones. I can still hear Mikey doing dishes and moving about the kitchen.

"God," Gerard groans, getting some air, "you're great."

"Am I?" I mutter dreamily.

"Yeah," he purrs, pressing his lips to mine once again. I can feel the thrumming of his heart through his chest, and I'm glad mine isn't the only one pounding that fast. And then, I back up. My moral compass has to develop itself at this particular moment, doesn't it? I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and prepare to deny myself and Gerard of what we want.

"Mikey," I state.

"Fuck him," Gerard says, obviously anxious to get back to it.

"I do. That's the thing."

Gerard steps back, and begins to chew on his bottom lip. "Yeah," he says, a little dejected and a little cold, "I suppose you're right."

I offer him an apologetic smile, and I can tell he tries to reciprocate, but it's not much. In a way it amplifies my guilt, making it multifaceted. Sure, I feel like shit over Mikey, being so blissfully ignorant and in love with me, but now I feel like shit over Gerard. God knows I want him, and it's rather clear he wants me, too. This is the dictionary definition of 'torn'.

I slip sadly out of Gerard's room and into the kitchen where Mikey is. My stomach wrings itself out when he smiles at me. My knees are week and I feel a blush coming on. "Hey," he chirps. "I'm so stoked you and Gerard are getting along like you are. I was afraid you two would kinda clash."

"Nope, nope. No clashing," I say hurriedly. _Except_, I tell myself, _our mouths_. "But, eh, listen. I should go. I got work in the morning."

Mikey laughs knowingly. "It can't McWait until tomorrow?"

I roll my eyes and go closer to him. "McFuck you," I quip, kissing him gently.

He pulls back. "McFuck me, eh? If you did, I'd be lovin' it," he remarks, smirking at his own wit.

I kiss the smirk off him. He glides his tongue swiftly on my bottom lip, and I open my mouth wider, inviting it in. He obliges and slides his wandering tongue over mine, drawing it upwards and they mesh together in romantic fury. He runs a hand down to my ass, squeezing it, and that's a sign I have to back away. "Seriously," I say, a bit breathless, "I gotta go."

"You're no fun."

"You love me," I remind him.

"You love me, too," he replies.

I slide my shoes on and step out into the muggy night. I'm dying for a cigarette, so I hightail it home, where there's the comfort of my own space, my stuff, and my Marlboros. I take one out, light it and inhale a rather large drag. I feel calmer, and I flop down on my couch, in front of my television to flip through the channels. Such is my Wednesday night routine.

I peel off my shirt and toss it against the wall, because the ventilation in my building... well... there isn't any. It's pretty shitty, and things get sweaty pretty fast.

I begin to doze as the blue light from my T.V. Stings my eyes after a few hours, until there is a loud rapping on my door, and I nearly piss myself. "Fuck!" I hiss to myself. "Hold up!" I holler, jumping off the couch and jogging to the door. I fling it open, thinking it may be Mikey or something. It's certainly not who I expect. I'm nearly as awestruck as the first time I saw him, standing in the doorway, wearing sunglasses.

"Hey, Frank," Gerard says quietly, looking at his shoes. "Mind if I come in?"

"N-not at all," I stammer. "What time's it?"

"Like, ten, ten-thirty. What's up?" he asks, sauntering past me, taking in my shitty abode.

"Uh, not much, dude. You?"

"Came to visit," he states. "You seemed in a rush to leave."

"Well, you can't blame me, can you?"

Gerard laughs a bit, through his nose. "Not at all. I guess I came on kinda strong, huh?"

"Kinda!" I enthuse, laughing in relief that he felt the same. "But..." I hesitate a moment, "but it wasn't _bad_, or anything."

He smirks at me, and it's indecipherable. I'm not sure if he means to thank me or to kiss me again, although I find out very quickly. He steps towards me and rakes some of my hair behind my right ear with his hand and leaves it there, locking me where I stand. He looks into my eyes, and I look into his, and it's way too intimate for two gus who aren't together. I can see Mikey and I having a moment like this, but it feels strangely alright with Gerard. I take this as a bad yet intriguing sign. "Hey, handsome," Gerard murmurs before resting his lips on mine, without pressure or stress.

I respond, pursing my lips slightly, and he applies more force. I, in turn, kiss back a little more intensely and it escalates until he's gripping my head as opposed to resting his hand on it, and pushing me closer. I lift my leg up like in some fucked up, sexual tango, and Gerard puts his other hand under it, hoisting it up to around his waist, and rubbing it up and down methodically. I adore having the backs of my thighs paid attention to, so I groan unthinkingly. Gerard laughs a little, and guides me over to my couch. I wonder why he has such a good handle on my place's layout, but that train of thought is stopped when he lays me down and gets on top. He leans down and kisses me, picking up where we left off, but this time he gently, so gently I'm only barely aware he's doing it, grinds his hips down against mine and moves them up and down and around, but all very subtly. I whisper an, "_Oh_," and raise my own hips up to crash a little more intensely with his. Gerard pushes my lower half down with his, and makes his movements a little rougher. I grab the hem of his shirt in my two fists and yank it up over his head, then toss it to the other side of the room. I want to feel him on me, feel his skin on mine, so I try and take off my own t-shirt, but it's trapped underneath Gerard, so I can't pull it free. He sees what I'm doing, and assists me in my emancipation. I put my hands to his back and hold him close to me, as he keeps gyrating his hips and kissing me with what feels like a lot of emotion.

I'm dismayed, however, when he stops abruptly. I look at him and raise an eyebrow in my confusion. His only reply is putting his hands to my crotch and working the fly of my shorts. It takes him a little bit longer than I would have liked, but he eventually gets them off, and he slides out of his jeans in a more timely fashion. I think on the fact that there is only two thin layers of fabric seperating all of him from all of me. I instantly despise whoever invented boxers.

As if reading my mind, Gerard got a grip on the waistband of my underwear and I buck my hips up to try and speed him along, but he says, "No, no, no. You gotta beg."

And I'm confused again. I'm supposed to _beg_ this motherfucker to take my boxers off? Christ. "Beg?" I ask.

"_Beg_," he purrs, pulling the elastic up and snapping it on my hip. That's about all I can take.

"Please, please, please, please, please, _please_ take them off!" I whine, mentally willing him to just do it already.

"More like it," Gerard mumbles to himself in what seems like content as he slowly, slowly, almost too slowly, pulls down my blue plaid underwear. I realize with relish that there is only one layer of clothing left between us. I put my hands to his boxers and I smirk at him.

"You don't need to beg," I practically growl, and yank down that one, despised barricade.

Gerard looks down at me nervously and I ask why. "You..." he says quietly, "you're clean, right?"

"Clean of?"

"You know..."

"OH!" I exclaim in realization. "Yes, I am."

"Good," Gerard says as he gets off me and extends a hand. I take the hand and he takes my spot on the couch and looks up at me. "D'you mind being on top?"

I blink at the sheer stupidity of the question. "Not at all. But we're not gonna use any..."

Gerard shakes his head. "Don't like the way it feels. You'll think of something if it's too much a tight fit."

The way he says it, with that subtle wink before he turns his head back around, and the smooth tone of his voice banishes all my nerves. I sort of kneel between his legs and put a hand on each side of him to let him know I'm ready, but also to stabilize myself. I start trying to force my way into him, but it's hurting me as well as him. And then I remember his instruction to think of something... Hmm. I bite the insides of my cheeks and try to come up with an idea. But as the saliva rushes to my mouth while I bite, I get a notion. I've seen it done before, so it must work... I spit down on my all-too-eager cock and then it's far easier to slide into Gerard. He feels... different than his brother. I hate to say it, but he feels better. And I don't think he minds the way I feel, either, because in not a very long time at all he tenses up in almost the same instant I start to whimper. I don't recall the last time I came that intensely, that fast. It certainly did not happen with Mikey.

I roll off of him and collapse onto the floor, my entire body aching for a smoke. I basically crawl towards my pack and hold it out to Gerard to see if he wants one. He accepts and I light his cigarette for him before I light my own. It's simply courtesy.

It's funny how I can think of courtesy, when I've done the most disrespectful thing I could ever do to Mikey. My lack of remorse is also funny, but not so much an ironic funny as an incredibly sad one.


End file.
